


Falling Down

by jesseofthenorth



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 14:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesseofthenorth/pseuds/jesseofthenorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being lost in the woods sucks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling Down

**Author's Note:**

> Written for challenge 14 at beacon_hills

Stiles is cold and his hands hurt like a bitch. He had no idea being cold _hurt_ , Hollywood has been seriously lying to him since he was a kid; freezing to death isn't peaceful, like going to sleep. It hurts and it's terrifying. It's probably better than being eaten by un-friendlies.... but it still sucks. 

He's getting tired, and his hands hurt, and he keeps tripping over nothing. Not that he doesn't do that normally, but he keeps tripping over _leaves_ and that's just stupid. And a little embarrassing. Good thing there's no one here to see it. Only it's not. A good thing. That there's no one here. 

He wasn't really planning on dying alone. Or out in the middle of the forest. He was kind of hoping for dying of old age surrounded by people who love him. Given the company he has been keeping though, the chances of that are pretty slim. Still. A guy can dream.

God, dreaming. 

If Stiles was dreaming he'd be in bed. If hr was in bed he would be _warm_. 

Instead of stumbling around in the forest at night, in a t-shirt, getting his feet wet because he's wearing his Chuck's and this is fucking California and there should not be _SNOW_ on the damned ground. 

He has no idea where he is. It's night and there is no moon and his Jeep slid off the road because of the snow. His phone didn't get a signal so he thought he'd just walk back. Except there was something out there, in the woods and he was very sure it wanted to _eat_ him. It certainly wanted to chase him.

Stiles ran until his lings burned, letting panic take hold of him, and now he's lost. This is the last fucking time he is driving down a creepy deserted road by himself at night without telling anyone where he was going. 

Okay maybe not. He's done it before, he'll probably do it again. 

Unless he freezes to death. Or the thing that was chasing him _catches_ him. He's pretty sure if shambling, stench ridden, filth encrusted horror gets it's disgusting claws into him there won't be enough left of him to bury. If they even find his body. 

Fuck.

Stiles hears something crack, a branch, something, behind him, but not close. He realizes he is just standing there swaying on his feet, not walking any more. The sound reminds him to move but his feet don’t want to co-operate and and he trips, falls. Again. 

He goes down hard. Again. He feels something cut into his hand adding to the scraped leg and the bruises he already has from falling the last two time. Stiles hopes fleetingly that what-ever-the-hell-it-is isn't drawn to the smell of blood. He's fucked if it is. Well, more fucked. 

He staggers to his feet looking at his hand trying to make sense of how much blood there is. It barely hurts. His fingers aren’t even sore from the cold any more., but there is blood all over his hand, and soaking his sleeve.

Oh. Shit. Stiles feels another spike of fear, he is probably in real trouble here. His hand is covered in blood and he can barely feel it and that just can't be right. Plus there's that thing where he can't stand up any more. He has time to think “This is it.” before his knees buckle and his ass hits the forest floor. He his so hard his teeth snap together, and everything gets kind of dark. He thinks absently to himself “ I hope I pass out before it starts eating me” 

It's cold, and dark, and everything hurts and he can't move much, and now Stiles can hear something coming. walking the the trees not even trying to be stealthy. He can hear footsteps and he's tired as hell and everything hurts but he's not ready to die. He needs to get away, to hide, or at least get something at his back so he can see it coming.

It takes everything he's got left to get to his hands and knees, and try to crawl away, he has to try cant just lie there and do nothing. He only makes it a couple of feet before his arms wont hold him up anymore. He plants face first in the dirt and frozen leaves and the air is knocked out of him with a 'woof'.

The cold has finally moved so deep into his bones he's used up, can't do anything but shiver and clutch at the leaves under his hand. 

He hears a call, “Stiles!” and he should know the voice but the old synapses aren't really firing all that well. He hears running feet, then feels a warm hand burning through the cold on his face. Stiles doesn't even open his eyes, just let's himself be saved.


End file.
